Lavender
by LittleTantrum
Summary: O'Brien's jealousy and rage is taken out on a bathing Mrs. Hughes.


_A/N: I labeled this humor because I cackled writing it but you probably need to like camp and have a dark sense of humor to find it funny. I like stories in which my favorite characters murder my other favorite characters. I actually love you Mrs. Hughes, no hard feelings, boo._

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She stood inside her bedroom door still reeling from this evening's revelation. The discovery should not have been such a punch to the gut. Sarah had suspected. The scent of unfamiliar lavender soap when she kissed her lady's neck. Secretive notes passed along downstairs through Anna rather than the countess' own maid. Sarah knew her lady could never be hers alone and she tolerated his lordship. She was certain Cora only acquiesced to her husband's advances to keep up appearances anyway. But another women. The thought incited a pain so sharp Sarah thought she might collapse there onto the floor. She felt her stomach turn like it had earlier that evening when she'd noticed the expertly tied laces of her lady's corset. The knot certainly wasn't the one Sarah had tied that morning but neither was it the clumsy work of masculine hands. The laces were delicately intertwined, clearly an attempt to mimic Sarah's style, by someone with a great deal of experience. Still, she recognized the knot immediately as foreign. Did they really think a woman who spends her days wrapped up in string and needles wouldn't know her own knot from this- this pretender?

Sarah sucked in a deep breath and tried to turn her thoughts to preparing for bed when she suddenly realized that, in her distracted state, she had forgotten her hairbrush in the bathroom. She stomped across the hallway and hammered on the door, "I've left my hairbrush in there and I need it right now!"

An exasperated Scottish brogue called from inside "For heaven's sake! If you must have it now then come in and get it!" Sarah crept into the humid washroom. Mrs. Hughes was reposing in the tub with a folded flannel over her eyes. Having another one of her migraines Sarah supposed as she surveyed the room. She was certain she had left it here but the brush wasn't on the sink or any of the shelves. Then she smelled it, lavender. Sarah was frozen. Lowering her gaze she spotted the purple bar of soap among Hughes' toiletries.

Blood boiled in Sarah's ears as her mind exploded with silent rage. Her jaw clenched, her fists tightened in fury, her eyes prickled with unshed tears. She did not breath. This tramp, this snake in the grass, this fucking bitch.

"Are you sure you left it in here?" the housekeeper finally asked irritably from beneath her towel.

With extreme effort Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat, composing herself enough to scour the room once more. There it was on the floor next to the tub. "It's right here" she murmured as she knelt down to pick up the fallen object, eyes fixed on the naked bather. Something about this scenario struck her as oddly familiar. Nearly at eye level Sarah watched the woman taking slow relaxed breaths in and out, totally oblivious to the uncontrollable wrath burning only inches from her exposed and vulnerable body. Sarah waved her arm above of the tub. Hughes did not flinch. She contemplated.

Hand hovering over the shrouded face, Sarah stretched her fingers wide, closed them in air, flexed them again slowly. Was she hesitating? Or was she savoring? Then without warning she shoved down hard. Water splashed over the sides of the tub, legs and arms fought and flailed, muffled screams bubbled up around Sarah's hand. Hughesie was putting up more of a fight than she had expected and Sarah eventually needed both hands to keep her down. Finally the writhing body beneath her stilled. When Sarah was certain the thing was finished she rose to her feet, bathwater soaking the front of her dress, sweat dripping from her brow. She gazed down at her work, at the fan of brown and grey hair that floated on the surface, at the tiny bubbles gathered near the corners of the mouth, the nostrils, the open and forever staring eyes. Sarah O'Brien turned her face to the mirror above the sink. This _is_ who you are now.


End file.
